Till All Souls
by Merlin Missy
Summary: Atonement is never easy, especially when it's for someone else's mistakes.  Spoilers up through Wake the Dead
1. Chapter 1

**Till All Souls (1/3)  
**a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2004  
PG-13

* * *

Summary: Atonement is never easy, especially when it's for someone else's mistakes. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. The DCAU and all its associated characters are the  
property of DC Comics / Warner Brothers Inc.

Spoilers up through "Wake the Dead." Thanks go out to BillA1 and  
XFFan2000 for their beta skills and for agreeing to be sounding boards  
during parts of this.

* * *

_And then you had to bring up reincarnation  
Over a couple of beers the other night  
And now I'm serving time for mistakes  
Made by another in another lifetime - "Galileo," The Indigo Girls_

* * *

The door was closed and Vixen was halfway down the corridor, and  
already she could tell they were fighting. She paused. There were a lot of  
places she didn't want to be at any given time, but standing between John  
and his ex while they were shouting at each other had to just about top that  
list. 

"You were the one who dropped it!" he said.

"Because you knocked into me! You know I need more clearance than  
you," she snapped right back.

Vixen frowned.

Everyone had known it wasn't going to be a picnic when Hawkgirl  
rejoined the League. Vixen had better hearing than some of them thought,  
and she'd heard the bets being placed. Despite the odds given, very few of  
the predictions had yet to come to pass. There had been no second  
invasion immediately upon her return. The Princess hadn't hauled off and  
drop-kicked Hawkgirl out an airlock, choosing instead to maintain an icy  
distance with a quiet warning to stay away. Mari's handsome new beau  
had yet to pass her over for a pale, feathery old flame and Mari herself had  
not had a single altercation with the woman.

John, on the other hand ...

She got why the two of them hadn't told the others they were an item, back  
when they were together. Dating was enough to make someone crazy  
normally. It was worse when everyone you knew — and everyone you  
worked with and in fact everyone on the planet — was watching and  
speculating about you.

Flash zipped by, then zipped back. "Hey, Vix."

"Hi, Flash." She liked Flash. Once he'd stopped hitting on her, he'd  
turned out to be a really sweet kid.

There was an indistinct shout from the other side of the door.

"Fighting again?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Just like old times." She frowned again. "I mean, back on the old  
Watchtower they argued all the time, except near the end. It was like they  
were either fighting or ... " She frowned deeper. "So did you get the  
message from J'onn?"

"That's why I came looking for them. Comms are on the fritz again.  
Solar flares, I think." _And for whatever reason, J'onn didn't want to go  
poking in John's mind just now. I can't imagine why not._

Hawkgirl yelled, "I wasn't the one who got a beard hair on the panel!"

"Do you want to knock?" The kid looked like he was contemplating  
sticking his arm in a lion cage. She didn't blame him.

Vixen risked it. "Anybody dead in there?"

The door slid open a moment later. "Not yet," Hawkgirl said, glaring at  
John. Behind her, the fractured remains of whatever they'd been working  
on covered the table and spilled over onto the floor. "_You_ talk  
some sense into him." She brushed past Vixen into the corridor, sparing a  
little smile for Flash. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Lantern!" called Shining Knight, coming down the corridor, just as John  
came out of the room. "Grab your fan club and get to the transporter.  
We've got a situation brewing in Metropolis."

"The Injustice Gang is causing trouble," Vixen explained. "Comms are  
down. We were coming to get you."

"A fight?" asked Hawkgirl eagerly. "An actual battle?"

"Fan club?" asked Flash.

"I'll make you a hat with mouse ears when we get back," John said to him.  
"I need to stop off a minute. I'll meet the rest of you at the transporter."

* * *

Crowd control. 

Shayera had helped save the planet on several occasions. _And was  
almost responsible for its destruction on one spectacular occasion,_  
reminded the little nagging voice in her head that she suspected was her  
conscience. Still. Saved the planet. Even then, she'd been instrumental in  
keeping this annoying little ball of dirt and water from being turned into a  
hole in space.

But J'onn had put her onto crowd control. Well, she could pay her dues as  
well as anyone. If crowd control was what they needed, crowd control was  
what she could provide, and she'd smile when she did even if it made her  
teeth ache.

Pity the best way she had of controlling the crowd was appearing in front  
of them to send them screaming in the opposite direction. There really  
wasn't enough smiling inside of her to make up for that.

Distant rumbles and the intermittent spatter of talk on the JL frequency let  
her know how the battle was progressing. A few injuries, nothing serious.  
The latest Injustice Gang had gained control of a supply of a newly-  
formulated explosive, and was using it to redesign south Metropolis while  
they hit banks and jewelry stores in the northern part of the city. The  
currently reformed shreds of Intergang had seized several of the explosive  
devices and were using them for their own agenda. The League had to  
find the impromptu bombs, stop the various gangs, and keep the civilian  
population from looting or getting killed.

They'd call her if they needed her for more than the latter duty. She was  
almost certain of it.

"Hey." A shiver went through her, which she controlled as well as she  
could. He was flying just above and behind her.

"Hi," she replied, not turning around. "Shouldn't you be ... " She  
indicated with a nod.

"They'll be fine without me," he said. "I came to find you."

"I don't want to talk about it right now. I've got a crowd to watch."

"What are you watching them do?" She hated that, hated when he got that  
gentle, teasing tone, hated how it warmed her stomach.

"Run away from me, mostly." She looked over her shoulder. He watched  
her face, but she couldn't read his, and it took her a second to figure out  
why. "You didn't have to shave it off on my account." The warm feeling  
returned to her stomach, though.

"Hm?"

There was a cry. Shayera spotted a little girl, maybe three years old,  
weeping on the sidewalk with no parent in sight. She swooped down,  
landing lightly. "Hey, where's your mom and dad?" The child sniffed but  
said nothing. Her jacket was too thin for the cold weather tonight. It was  
going to start snowing soon.

John landed a few feet away as Shayera kneeled down. "C'mon. We'll  
help you find them." She took the little girl's hand and looked up at John.  
"Can you ... ?"

He stared at her, so long she almost snapped at him. Then he floated up  
and scanned the fleeing crowd. "There. About a block north of here."

"We'll walk. Keep an eye on the crowd." The child went with her  
placidly, still sniffling. Some of the passers-by saw her wings and shied  
away. Most just ran, oblivious to the two of them. Overhead, John floated  
and directed people. She was unsurprised to note there was less fear of  
him than of her. _Figures._

A man and a woman ran against the tide of the crowd toward them, and  
the child squealed, letting go of Shayera's hand and dashing to them.

"Yours?" John asked, setting down beside her.

The mother held her daughter close against her, eyes squarely on Shayera  
and not friendly. The father stroked the girl's hair. "You okay, Jenna?"

"Uh huh."

"Thank you," said the father, but he was speaking to John. Their child  
safely returned, the family blended with the rush of people and was gone.

"I'm being punished, aren't I?" she asked. "Put the one person on crowd  
control that nobody trusts. Bright move, guys."

He shrugged. "Come on. This way." He took off, and bewildered, she  
followed him away from the largest press of people towards the side  
streets.

"Did you see something?" She scanned the alleyways. "I don't think  
there's anyone here. I should get back." _Can't screw this up too. I'll  
never hear the end of it._

"Down here." He landed in an alley. Something prickled in the back of  
her mind, like a sliver of music from a song she couldn't quite remember.

"What's in here?" she whispered, glancing into the darkness, wondering  
what he'd seen.

"You have her?" Superman came out of the shadows. He glared at her,  
and, nervously, she fingered the handle of her mace. She'd seen him look  
at her that way only once before, in the Batcave.

John's hand was on her shoulder. She didn't want to lean into his touch,  
lean into him. She was her own person, and she took her strength from  
herself, and he ...

He was squeezing her shoulder too hard. "Ow! What are you doing?"

"Shut up," said Superman, and then louder, "Now!"

Yellowish-green sparks grew from the center of one of the alley walls, and  
she knew. Her hand shot to her comm. "Hawkgirl — " John wrenched  
her arms away and behind her back. _Not John,_ her brain told her as  
her mace fell from her grasp. _Not our John._ She lashed out with a  
foot, but he dodged her easily.

"Enough," said the other Superman, and punched her in the jaw. Had she  
more than a split-second before she lost consciousness, she might have  
mused that it would be a nice change to travel between her home  
dimension and that of the Justice Lords _without_ getting knocked  
out. Instead, she barely had time for the thought _Not again_ to  
register, and everything went black.

* * *

_It is the longest walk she has ever taken, here along the hallways of  
Wayne Manor. Her friends are behind the door, and they have made their  
judgment, and she knows there is no room in their code for clemency. _

She opens the door without hesitation, and they are standing. Even a small  
child can count to five and know it's an odd number. No worries of a tie.

Her heart is in her mouth. She hopes it won't stop the words she needs to  
say.

"Hawkgirl," says Superman.

She interrupts: "Before you start, I have something to say. I came to this  
planet as a patriot. I had a mission, and I carried it out."

"We understand," J'onn says, while John comes to her, wraps her fingers  
in his, stands against her. There's a ghost of a smile on his face. She  
hopes he can still smile when she tells them she is resigning.

And then Batman walks behind her and closes the door.

"We understand," Diana repeats. "You were in a bad situation and you  
made the best of it. You came to us when you found out how bad."

Superman says, "But you also have to understand that we can't trust you."

"You know our secrets," says Batman. He stands beside her, opposite  
John, and she feels her stomach drop to the floor as she reads the tiny  
measure of pity on J'onn's face, the revulsion on Diana's.

"Hold her arms," says Superman, and his eyes are red.

* * *

She was cold, and she shivered in her sleep. Her dream had been warm,  
but as she drifted back to consciousness, she lost whatever it had been. 

Shayera opened her eyes. She lay on a metal shelf about two feet above a  
metal floor. The cold had seeped into her bones and she shivered more  
violently as she rolled to a sitting position and examined her environment.  
Her jaw ached and her head hurt and then she remembered why.

Metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floor, and opposite the shelf, a wall of  
bars that looked out onto cave walls and shadows. A door, too, but even  
without trying it she knew it would be locked. She was in a cage.

A video camera hummed and moved to point at her. A shadow moved.

"You're awake," said Batman without surprise. No, not Batman. The  
_other_ Batman, wearing his altered costume. Superman and John  
had worn what she considered their "normal" uniforms, no doubt to blend  
in better.

She walked to the bars. He stood several feet away, watching her, might  
have been standing like that for hours for all she could tell.

"Are you going to kill me?" It wasn't what she'd intended to be her first  
question, but really, it was the only one that mattered.

"Not now." So maybe a yes, and maybe an implied threat on her good  
behavior.

She rubbed her temples. Back in the day, she would've loved to have a  
verbal sparring match with Batman, just to keep her sharp. Right now, her  
head hurt and she was tired and she was very far from home. She tried not  
to think about being in a little cage. "Why did you bring me here?" Her  
heart started to race. "You're going to replace me in my universe, aren't  
you? I thought you were the one who knew better." Maybe the others  
were already captured and in other cages, just like the last time, while their  
counterparts slid into their roles as easily as before.

"We're not replacing you," said J'onn, coming into view. He thrust a  
handful of papers into the cage. After a moment's hesitation, she took  
them.

"What's this?"

"Read it," said Superman, from where she could not see.

"I can't. It's in gibberish."

"I told you a transcription wouldn't work," said Batman, and he turned and  
walked out of her sight.

"It was worth a try," J'onn said quietly.

"Tell me what's going on," she said.

"You don't get to demand things, traitor," said Superman.

And then it clicked. She should've known sooner. Of course the Shayera  
in the Justice Lords universe would have been on the same mission, and  
would have betrayed their trust just as she herself had done.

Diana came up to the bars. "We've been intercepting transmissions from  
the Thanagarians. We need you to translate them for us."

J'onn added, "We need to know if they're planning on coming back."

"Did you blow up the hyperspace bypass generator?" The others shared a  
look, and she knew there had been casualties.

"Yes," said Diana.

"Then they're not coming back."

"We need to be sure," said Batman. He carried a device in his hand. She  
immediately thought it was a bomb and then her brain kicked into gear and  
told her it was a cd player. Batman brought it close to the bars and pressed  
Play.

The voice on the recording was distant and staticky: _"Second division,  
return to position six. Repeat, second division, return to position six."_

"They're talking about fleet movements." The voice continued to drone  
orders.

"Where are they going?" Superman demanded.

"It doesn't matter. They're lying. It's not an encrypted message." She  
saw the confusion and sighed. "It's standard practice."

John broke in from out of sight, startling her, "Actual orders are sent  
encoded, fake orders are sent to confuse the enemy."

"Yes." _And I should be there with them now._

"So we don't need her," said Superman, turning away.

"I have other transmissions," Batman replied. "They may be encrypted."

"They may be Gordanian," she said, knowing it wasn't the best idea.

"You'll find out for us," said Batman.

Diana asked her, "Do you need anything?"

"What?"

"You just woke up. Do you need food or to use the restroom?" There was  
concern on her face and in her voice and Shayera was very confused.

"Um. The latter would be good." Diana took the key from Batman and  
unlocked the door. Shayera breathed in deeply. "Thanks."

"I'll escort you," Diana said. "You really don't want to think about  
leaving."

"I guess not." She stepped out, and got a better look at her surroundings.  
They were in the Batcave, which didn't surprise her. The cage faced a  
back wall, away from Batman's computer. Probably to keep her from  
seeing what he was doing, she guessed.

The men stayed back as Diana placed a firm hand on her shoulder. She  
read plenty of anger on their faces, and then she had to know. "Why  
didn't you ask your Hawkgirl to translate for you?"

"She's not available," said Diana, but Shayera caught John's wince.  
"Come on."

Diana was polite enough to stand outside the door. Aside from being  
devoid of so much as a scrap of human touches, it was a very normal  
bathroom with a commode and a shower and a sink. In a cave. Just right  
for cleaning up after a night of vigilantism.

Sometimes she wondered what her life on Earth would have been like had  
she spent her time among more normal humans.

After she washed her hands she splashed some water on her face and then  
rinsed her teeth as best she could. She rarely bruised and this didn't look  
like it would be an exception. Superman had apparently held his punch  
enough not to do any permanent damage.

Diana still waited on the other side of the door as she came out. "Better?"

"Yes. Thanks." Diana nodded. "You seem ... " How to put this? "Less  
angry than the others."

Diana shrugged. "I'm not angry at her. She did what she did, she owned  
up, she was punished."

"About that ... "

Diana stopped. "They told you. How we used to control the criminals on  
our world." She nodded. "For our Hawkgirl. I ... It would have been  
better if we'd made it a clean kill. I was outvoted."

Shayera's stomach clenched into a knot. She'd seen tapes of the news  
broadcasts of the Justice Lords' fight with the Doomsday creature, and  
Flash had told her about the other Arkham. Her doppelganger was out  
there somewhere without her mind, just like Grundy had been.

Diana continued, "I promise I won't let Superman do that to you." She  
smiled and said, "When the time comes, I'll snap your neck myself."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Till All Souls (2/3)  
**a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2004  
PG-13

* * *

Wally wished sometimes he didn't know his friends as well as he did.  
Heck, J'onn probably wished the same thing on a daily basis. If he didn't  
know them, he'd think they were a little worried, and a little beat-up from  
their fight with the latest incarnation of the Injustice Gang. _And can't  
they come up with a better name? It's not like they have anyone from the  
first Injustice Gang except Copperhead, and that's only because he's not  
bright enough to know when he should get a new job._

Yeah, if Wally hadn't known his friends this well, he wouldn't have been  
half so worried. John was pacing, and Diana was glowering, and Batman  
— Wally still couldn't call him "Bruce" even in his head — had managed  
to find a way to be shadowed in his brooding darkness even under the  
fluorescent lights.

Superman asked, "There wasn't anything else?"

"No," said J'onn over the comm. "She was starting a transmission, and  
then she was gone."

"You mean cut off?" asked GL.

"I mean," said J'onn. "The transmission did not continue. And then we  
lost her signal entirely." Shayera hadn't been seen by anyone, and she  
wasn't answering her comm.

"What signal?" asked Wally. "Wait, are these things tracking devices?"

"You missed the meeting where we announced that," John said.

Diana added, "They work even when the comms are off."

"So what's it mean when we don't get a signal at all?" Wally looked  
around for an answer from someone.

Finally, Batman said, "We have no idea."

"Solar flare," John said. "It's just another solar flare." But everyone  
else's comm was functioning fine right now.

"All right," said Superman. "Batman, Diana, keep an eye on the rest of the  
team. We need to make sure the mess is cleaned up and everyone is  
debriefed. J'onn, transmit her last known coordinates and the three of us  
will start looking there."

As Bats and Diana went off, J'onn sent the coordinates. Wally thought  
about hanging back with GL and Supes, but the look on John's face didn't  
invite company so he dashed off to get there first.

It was an alley. It looked like a lot of other alleys he'd seen and maybe  
that's why it was so familiar. A faint dusting of snow covered everything.  
No footprints, which only meant that the snow fell after whoever'd been  
here had left.

The other two flew up and landed behind him.

"Oh no," John breathed.

Wally spotted the mace and grabbed it, remembering a second later  
everything Bats had tried to teach him about detective work. "So she was  
here."

"She was," said Superman, and he had the same weird and unhappy look  
John did. His hand went to his ear. "J'onn, tell Bruce and Diana we have  
a problem. We're at the coordinates. We've been here before."

It was the graffiti that finally did it. Wally remembered the Cool "Disco"  
Dan tag, remembered reading it while clutching his stomach for a second  
after the dimensional jump. Then, one of the walls had been overtaken by  
a yellowish-green portal. Now it was just brick. Shayera's mace was  
suddenly very heavy in Wally's hand.

"Okay," he said. "So we go get her. Just like last time."

Superman said, "Last time we were all in that universe."

"But, our Bats has one of those dimensional gate thingies in the Batcave,  
right?" Superman didn't respond.

John swore.

* * *

Batman, grudgingly, let her sit at the computer. He stood beside her, and  
Superman was a few feet away, and she had no weapon. 

Shayera listened to voices from a home that was almost hers.

There were more transmissions than she would have expected. Earth was  
not in a direct route between Thanagar and the Gordanian homeworld.  
Hyperspace messages traveled in a line, radiating only slightly (on a  
cosmic scale) from their intended path, unlike radio waves which spread.  
That Earth was getting these transmissions indicated the planet was close  
to the transmission path. Or behind it.

"It's possible they headed straight to the Gordanian homeworld when they  
left here," said J'onn.

She shook her head. "They can't get there from here. They can't get there  
from anywhere. That's why they needed the bypass."

"Keep listening," said Batman.

Most of the transmissions were encrypted, as she'd suspected. Her codes  
were six years out of date in her universe, except for the few she'd gotten  
access to during the invasion. She used what she could remember,  
plugging them into Batman's computer with only a brief hesitation. She  
was an ex-patriot, and she was in another universe, and she really couldn't  
make herself care.

The computer spat out another decrypted message. She closed her eyes.  
"More troop movements. They're engaging part of the Gordanian fleet."  
She bit her lip. "They're close to Thanagar, only one system over."

"Not near here?" asked Superman.

"Not this group." She flipped over to the original broadcast. "This is a  
bad signal. We barely got it. Some are much closer." She sat back as the  
computer digested another message.

She would get to live exactly as long as they found her useful. Diana had  
told her as much. Given enough time and imagination, she could  
conceivably spin enough stories — based on the frankly useless  
information she was getting — to act the scheherazade and lengthen her  
life expectancy. But her time frame was unknown and her imagination  
wasn't the best.

_Probably why they gave me the cover story in the first place,_ she  
mused.

The computer gave her another decrypted message. This one was still  
garbled. She typed in another encryption key and began going over escape  
plans in her head.

J'onn had mentioned in passing that they had been searching for her for  
months. Apparently their little toy couldn't penetrate the magics  
protecting Fate's tower. In theory, she could break out of here and seek  
sanctuary with this universe's version of the Nelsons, if they weren't  
fascist or evil or dead.

The biggest problem with escaping into this world was that she had no  
idea what reception she would receive. Were they still conquering heroes?  
Outcasts? Would the resistance, assuming such a thing existed here, take  
her in as a fellow or shoot her on sight?

The computer spoke.

"This one's a Mayday from a supply ship. They're low on fuel and  
stranded too far from the fleet."

* * *

They locked her in the cage at night, or whatever time of day it was when  
even Batman crawled out of the Cave to his bed. She tried not to think  
about the walls around her, but the wrongness was everywhere. She  
couldn't comfortably sleep on the shelf and the floor was too cold for her  
to lie down; she tried both. Eventually, she settled in a sitting position,  
back uncomfortably against one chilly wall, with the blanket draped over  
her. 

She woke from the cold several times. When morning came, or at least  
when Diana came to escort her to the bathroom again, she'd barely slept.

"Here," said Diana at the door. "Use the shower if you want. You can  
change into these." Clothes had been neatly folded and placed beside the  
sink. Shayera murmured her thanks and spent the next fifteen minutes  
standing under a hot spray, waiting for warmth to go all the way through to  
her bones. She changed into the new clothing, was surprised for only a  
moment that everything fit and was tailored to accommodate her wings.

Of course the clothes fit. They were hers.

"Back to work," Diana said from the other side of the door.

There was a mirror. If she broke it, she could use a large shard as a  
weapon. She could squirt liquid soap in someone's eye. She could ...

Shayera exited the bathroom, followed Diana back to the computer, sat  
down, and went back to work.

* * *

"That was longer than usual," said Superman. 

"There were a lot of personal communiques in that one. Letters home. A  
few business transactions." _Their Hro is getting married. I think I  
remember her._

Batman asked, "What's their location?" He'd made a three-dimensional  
starchart on the computer.

"Here, I think." Four or five star systems over. Close, but tactically  
advantageous. The Gordanians weren't looking in this part of the galaxy.

"I thought it was here," Batman said, indicating a site only three systems  
away. As she translated, he was beginning to pick up the language. Once  
he understood it, once she had used up all her codes, they wouldn't need  
her any more.

She thought about slowing down.

"Keep listening," said Superman.

* * *

_There is sunshine slanting in through the big windows and she is happy  
and warm. Shayera is painting. The doctors won't let her have a brush,  
but the paint is sticky and blue on her fingers as she touches the canvas.  
She paints lots of blue pictures. She used to be allowed to have more  
colors, but she cried when she played with the green paint so the doctors  
gave her more pills and took away everything but blue. _

She is painting a picture of her best friend but it's hard with just blue. Ivy  
is red, and just-barely-green like the bubbles on a wave in the sea.

She remembers flying over the sea. She remembers salt spray on her face  
and on her wings. She stops painting, and tries to grab the memory,  
cupping it in front of her with paint-covered hands, but there's nothing  
else.

Ivy has memories. Ivy tells her stories, though she usually gets tired  
halfway through and wants to go do something else. Shayera can focus on  
things for hours and hours. She used to get mad when Ivy didn't finish her  
stories or wandered off while they played checkers, but the doctors  
changed the pills they gave her and she doesn't get mad anymore.

The doctors watch her while she paints.

Sometimes she can hear what they say. "Different physiology" is hard to  
figure out, but they say it a lot when they make notes on their papers.  
They talk to each other about brains a lot, too. Ivy says brains are what  
fills her head. These are brain doctors, and they watch all the patients here  
at Arkham and make notes. There's another doctor who pokes needles  
into her arm to get blood samples, and it hurts but not much.

She thinks she remembers being hurt a lot more, but those memories are  
vague.

Today she has a visitor. He comes to see her sometimes and he tells her  
his name but she always forgets. Mostly he sits and watches her for a  
while and then he leaves. Now he talks to the needle doctor.

"We have a problem," says the needle doctor, and she shows him her  
notes.

"Are you sure?" he asks as he reads the papers. He doesn't look happy,  
and this makes Shayera sad too.

They continue to talk and Shayera tries to listen but mostly she tries to  
keep painting. The needle doctor is sure and thinks it's about two or three  
months but says she can't tell with aliens. Her visitor is definitely not  
happy, but Shayera doesn't think he's mad either. It's not anger on his  
face as he looks at her, as he tells the needle doctor he was raised to do the  
right thing.

Shayera has no idea what he means.

* * *

"I have preliminary plans," Batman said. "I didn't get a good look at what  
my double had on hand, but I think I may have a theory." 

"Great!" said Flash. "How long will it take us to build it?"

"About three months."

Flash looked downcast for a second, then asked, "How long will it take if I  
do most of it?"

"I was already assuming you would."

John got up from the table and walked out. Staying was just going to  
make him want to start yelling, and that wasn't going to do any good.

A few minutes later, he felt a familiar breeze. "We shouldn't have let  
them go," he said without looking.

"We had to," said Flash. "They knew our secret identities."

"Would have been worth it, to keep them from going back and doing it all  
over again."

"Says the guy who doesn't wear a mask all day." Flash looked like he  
wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but neither of them was the touchy-  
feely type. "We'll figure out a way to find her. I mean, we know where  
she is. We just have to get there."

"Yeah," said John. He closed his eyes and then it hit him. "The android."

"Huh?"

"Amazo knocked Oa into another dimension. Maybe he or Fate or both of  
them can make a portal."

He looked at Flash as the idea refired him, but Flash shook his head.  
"J'onn already asked." _Damn._

John sighed. "I should go back in there. We need to implement Operation  
Toil and Trouble."

He and Batman had worked it out right after their last encounter with the  
Justice Lords, when they'd seen the potential that one or more of them  
could be replaced by alternate-universe doubles. J'onn would relieve  
himself from all other duties and go into full mental screening mode. He'd  
have a terrible headache during and afterwards, and he'd probably go into  
another antisocial funk when it was all over, but he'd be the first to  
identify anyone who wasn't themselves. Meanwhile, there were code  
phrases and passwords only the core six of them had. It wasn't perfect,  
but it was better than nothing.

He wasn't sure how they'd determine whether Shayera was really herself if  
they got her back. That he was considering this an "if" worried him more  
than anything.

* * *

Shayera was back in her cage. The others were occupied with matters  
requiring their attention. Maybe a supervillain, maybe a rogue comet.  
They didn't bother telling her and she didn't ask. 

They'd been gone for hours. She started to regret her last two cups of  
coffee, but more, she started to worry. What if they faced down a threat  
that was too big for them? What if they were all wounded or killed? Did  
anyone else know she was down here, locked up tight?

The walls got closer. She went to the bars, hung her face as much outside  
as she could, and took deep breaths. They would come back. They would  
come back. They wouldn't leave her here forever, locked inside a tiny  
little box with no food or water and now with no air at all, no no no, they'd  
be back, sure as rain.

Her mouth was sour and her pulse raced.

Maybe Batman had left the key in a convenient location and she could  
reach it if she grasped out enough. She stretched her arm, groping wildly,  
until it felt like her shoulder was going to dislocate.

She was going to starve. She slid down to the cage floor. She was going  
to die from lack of water. The Justice Lords were dead or had forgotten  
her, and she was going to die here. She clawed her fingers into the floor,  
scrabbling for a way out through the slick, unyielding metal.

"Dinner," said John, coming into sight with a tray of food.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, can I get out of here? Just for a minute?"  
She sounded like she was begging even in her own ears and she didn't  
care.

John stared at her through the bars. Then he walked out of sight again,  
and came back with the key. He paused as he brought it to the door.

"Please?"

He unlocked the cage and she stumbled out. She spread her wings and  
tried to breathe, but the shaking won and she went to her knees again.

He stood above her, watching dispassionately. The panic attack ended,  
and he offered her a hand. After she got her footing, he continued holding  
her hand a moment too long.

"Done?"

"If I have to live in a cage, can it be a bigger one?"

"No." He escorted her to the bathroom. As he brought her back, she  
trembled, regarding the cage with undisguised horror.

"What do I have to do to be allowed to eat out here instead?"

"Ask someone else." He locked her up again and brought her the food:  
sushi, all her favorites. She was ravenous. Maybe if she focused on the  
meal she wouldn't be concerned with the cage.

She swallowed a few pieces, barely taking the time to chew. He'd pulled  
up a chair outside and pretended to read something. She wasn't fooled.

"You don't need to babysit me," she said around an ebi roll.

"If you choke to death, Batman will yell at me for hours."

"That's your biggest worry?"

"Your Batman ever yell at _you_?"

She smiled, a little. "I didn't think the rest of you would accept him after  
how he helped us."

"Before the power disruptor wore off, we all had a long talk."

"Didn't seem to help," she said.

"Depends on who you ask. We've had elections. The police answer to the  
government, and the government isn't us. The crime rate's low, thanks to  
what we did, but we're trying things the old way. For now."

"Do you still fry your criminals?" There was that twitch again.

He met her eyes when he said, "Last one was right after the invasion."

"So. Where is she now? Arkham?"

John picked up his reading materials and walked away from her without  
answering.

* * *

They were far from finished on the messages Batman had collected over  
the past few months but now _he_ was sitting at the computer,  
running the signals through the decrypting program and trying to translate  
the results. She'd always known he was smart, but this was worrisome.  
She corrected him when his translations were off. This was happening  
less and less frequently. 

In theory, she could buy herself more time by trying to decrypt the  
messages they hadn't yet decoded. While she didn't know all the current  
keys, she understood how the people who made the codes thought. J'onn  
didn't; he hadn't ripped apart the mind of Lieutenant Kragger in this  
universe, and she wasn't about to tell him it was possible.

She kept her eyes open for an opportunity to bolt.

J'onn was escorting her back from the restroom when his head snapped up  
suddenly. A moment later, an alarm went off. John and Batman went to  
the computer, checking the alert on the screen. J'onn did not join them,  
but she saw his eyes glow which told her he was reading their thoughts  
and seeing what they saw.

All she'd wanted was a distraction. All she needed now was a head start.

Shayera flew from a standstill, taking a precious second to get wind under  
her wings, and then soared towards the back entrance of the Batcave. She  
knew where to go, knew where it was from her observations of her  
Batman, from the time she'd used it to find them.

Right there, and she had only a dozen meters left to go and even Superman  
couldn't catch her in the open air. She flew just a touch faster.

A wall glowed green in front of her, blocking her escape. She swooped to  
avoid it, knowing she'd never slow down in time, but the wall covered the  
whole opening.

She smacked into the construct with a crunch. It wrapped around her sore  
body and yanked her back to the cave proper, then shoved her roughly into  
the cage. She hit the shelf on the back wall with her knees and fell hard.  
Shayera closed her eyes.

"Not smart," said Batman. She heard the door slam shut. Someone  
locked it. She didn't look to see who. Without getting up, she reached for  
the blanket and rolled it around herself there on the floor.

She used to be a lot better about not crying.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Till All Souls (3/3)  
**a Justice League story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2004  
PG-13

* * *

_Morning. Sunday morning. That means there will be a paper in the  
hallway when she opens the door. John is snoring beside her. He came in  
late from duty at the new Watchtower, grumbling about raw recruits. Shayera  
nodded and asked him if he had eaten and they went to sleep and this is her  
life. _

She used to have another one. She remembers it when she tries very hard.  
Alone in the apartment, there's little to do but sit and try to remember.

She remembers that she heals very fast. It's a trait of her people. She is  
beginning to understand that this is why she remembers things. She's not  
sure she wants to piece together these carved up memories, because she  
remembers blood and people screaming and she remembers that she was  
the cause of it all but these things are distant, like a dream.

For three days, she's been palming the medication John gives her. She  
remembers a lot more without the pills and the memories let her know she  
used to be able to think and feel and this is painful.

It's hard to move out of the bed, and it takes her three tries before she can  
stumble her feet into slippers and stand. He is still asleep. She watches  
him, and she remembers him, too. She knows he loves her, or at least he  
loves his memory of who she used to be. He has been kind to her. He  
doesn't yell at her when she does things wrong like pile all the dishes in  
the house into the small drainer, where they tip and fall to the floor and  
break. He holds her hand sometimes when they sit on the couch together  
and that's nice. When the baby moves, he puts his hand on her tummy.

The part of her that used to be someone else is sad because she knows he  
will be hurt, but the part of her that she considers to be herself knows that  
a prison is a prison, whether it's a hospital or an apartment or her own  
head.

And she cannot stand confinement.

It's cold outside in the early Sunday morning autumn air, but the sun is  
warm on her wings. The few people on the street — early church services,  
says her memory — stare at her and shy away but she ignores them as she  
watches the traffic. There isn't a light at this corner, and the stop sign only  
pauses traffic on the cross street, so cars hurry past over the speed limit.

The delivery truck is big and orange and is going too fast, and she  
smiles.

* * *

Shayera woke. She was still on the floor wrapped in her blanket. She  
didn't know how long she'd been out. She remembered hearing voices for  
a while after her escape attempt, and then she'd fallen asleep. The alert  
hadn't been enough to call them all out, apparently.

There was a tray in front of the cage. She pulled it towards her, stared at  
the food for a few minutes, then pushed it away again.

"Eat." John came into view. He was still angry, she could see it all over  
his face.

"You're going to kill me. Why bother?"

"We haven't decided what we're doing with you yet."

"True. You may just decide to lobotomize me. That would be _so_  
much better."

"You don't. Understand. Anything." He walked away.

"Wait!" she called. He stopped, looked back. "Please don't go. I'm  
sorry."

"I don't think you're ever going to be sorry enough."

"I'm sorry she hurt you. I'm sorry you had to hurt her." Grundy's death  
was too fresh in her mind and she spared a moment for grief.

"It had to be done," he said, but hollowly.

"She would have understood that."

"No. She didn't." She read the pain in his eyes, and she knew her double  
was dead, and she was glad despite all else. Small mercies were  
sometimes the only ones they had.

"Look, whatever she did to you, whatever she took from you ... "

John's face froze. "You don't know what she took from me."

He left the tray, but she didn't see him again for hours.

* * *

"So," Vixen said from behind him. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

John continued his work. The electronics for this thing were delicate.  
"What do you mean?"

"No one's seen Hawkgirl in three days." _Four,_ he thought but  
didn't say. _It's been four days._ "But there's no search on. There's  
no criminal asking for ransom. And the six of you are clucking around  
like hens and working on something. Share."

"I can't." A tiny drop of solder fused one wire to another. The sizzle  
almost hid her sigh. He set his tools down. "Come here." She glared.  
"Please, Mari?"

Not entirely appeased, she approached him.

As low as he dared speak, he said, "It's possible that exact doubles of me  
and the other original league members are trying to infiltrate the group."

"You think it's the government making clones again?"

"No. Did you ever read the report on the Justice Lords?" Her eyes went  
wide. "We really don't want it wide-spread that we might not be us."

"How sure are you that it's them?"

"Pretty sure."

"What about Hawkgirl?"

_They have her and I don't know what they're doing to her._ "We  
don't know."

She chewed her lip. "What can I do to help?" He smiled inside; this was  
one of the many reasons why he liked her.

"Do you know how to wire a circuit board for cross-dimensional travel?"

She sat down beside him. "Not yet."

* * *

Diana bound her hands with the lasso the next time she escorted Shayera  
to the restroom, untying her only after they were both inside. "Don't think  
I'm enjoying this any more than you are," she said. "The only reason  
we're letting you out at all is that no one wants to clean a damned bucket."

Not eating or drinking wasn't going to work, either. In case she possibly  
could have forgotten, Superman reminded her anyone among them could  
break all her teeth and force a tube down her throat. They wanted her alive  
for the time being.

She wished she could think of that as a positive thing.

* * *

She was out of codes and cyphers. From her cage, she translated the  
messages as they were played for her, but Batman followed these up with  
comments like: "That's the wrong verb tense for that noun sequence."  
While she wasn't entirely sure she understood what he meant, she knew  
he was right.

She had better luck translating the Gordanian transmissions. He hadn't yet  
grasped the language structure or the tonal discordances that made the  
difference between numbers, so while she could give them rough  
estimations of what was being said — over the unencrypted channels  
anyway — she was still of some value.

They allowed her paper and pencil and a playback device within reach but  
outside the bars. Decrypting by hand was painstaking and was not her  
field. Despite this, she'd discovered a new encryption key within about  
six hours of work. A backlog of messages cleared with the new key, and  
she greedily translated them all before Batman had a go.

As a reward, she was permitted another shower and a fresh change of  
clothes. For all that they belonged to a dead woman, these were of a  
higher quality than those she'd been given before.

"The other me had good taste," she remarked to Diana as she dressed, her  
flesh crawling just a little at the touch of the fabric.

The other woman shrugged. "John brought the rest of her clothes to the  
Cave. I chose the outfit. You look good in dark colors."

"You think?"

Diana nodded. "Brings out your complexion. I like it. We'll probably  
bury you in it."

* * *

Batman did all the Thanagarian translations for the rest of the day. She  
managed two more uncoded Gordanian messages, but the rest were  
beyond her.

As the day waned, the others started talking in low voices where she could  
not see them. When Diana came to escort her out for the last time before  
they shut down for the night, she almost didn't go. As they walked to and  
from the maddingly normal bathroom in the heart of the shrine Batman  
had built to his own grief, Shayera expected every second for a chop to the  
back of her neck that never came.

After they left her, she sat awake in the tiny cage, listening to the rustle of  
the bats as they came and went. Each squeak was another cold speck of  
sand through the hourglass of her life.

The camera hummed at the edge of inaudibility. After, would they  
rewatch the tape of her last night alone, huddled under a thin blanket in the  
dark? Would they kill her here and send a copy of the tape through the  
portal so her friends knew to stop looking?

The cage was small and cold and it was the last place she was ever going  
to see, these clothes that weren't hers and this stupid blanket the last things  
she would ever touch. No mask. No weapon. No hope of rescue. No  
faith in a world beyond.

Shayera had nothing left but herself.

And then she understood.

* * *

John came early, and alone. She knew she was going to die because he'd  
brought her pancakes with honey for breakfast.

"Tell me what she took from you."

"It doesn't matter now."

"Does to me. Especially if I'm getting punished for it."

"You're being punished for what you did."

She held onto one bar. "John, I know what I did. I know why I did it. I  
thought I was doing it for the right reasons, and it turns out that good  
intentions really do make great asphalt."

"You betrayed us!"

"No," she said, and her voice shook. "Let's get one thing clear.  
_She_ betrayed you. She spied on you, told your secrets. Broke your  
heart." Anyone else would have seen him stand statue-still. She who  
knew his double so well could see the line of him shake. "I know. I  
betrayed my friends, my adopted home and the man I loved. I did these  
things too.

"But not to you."

"There's no difference," he said.

"There is. I'm not her, John. I'm me. I've got hundreds if not thousands  
of big and small things to atone for in my universe. I'm tired of trying to  
make up for hers too. Some things are _not_ my responsibility."

"Maybe they should be."

"They shouldn't. I need to go home. I need to make things right with my  
friends. With my John. And maybe I never will." It hurt to think that last  
part, to know that no matter what she did it might never be nearly enough,  
but it hurt worse to think she'd never even have the chance. "Let me try."

"People died!"

"Not in my universe."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. You don't think I scoured every news source I could find  
afterwards? I wanted to know how much blood I had on my hands."  
There had been incidental deaths: heart attacks, traffic accidents. Her  
heart ached at these and knew there had been nothing she could have done  
differently to prevent them. Worse were the deaths of her people in the  
war, deaths now almost surely guaranteed. "I didn't kill anyone on my  
Earth. Not during the invasion," she amended, remembering Grundy's  
tired, bowed head in the dark sewer. "And I haven't done anything at all  
in yours. The last time I was here, I was unconscious the whole time if  
you'll recall."

"I remember." She'd bashed the wall open and he'd been standing there  
and he'd slammed into her with a blinding green bolt and she'd almost  
died.

"We all have things to make up for. Give me a chance to fix mine."

"And if you're lying again? If all you're doing is biding your time until  
the fleet comes back? I can't take that chance." But he was wavering.

"You won't. You made that call already. You made it so your Shayera  
would never betray you again. My friends get to make the same choice.  
Not. You." The blow struck home, at last; it was all over his face. His  
Shayera was dead and buried and lost, and he couldn't force himself to  
bury her again.

She swallowed.

"I'll make you a deal. You guys use the gate to watch us sometimes,  
right?" _And if that's not creepy I don't know what is._ "Well, if I  
ever go against my friends, if I ever stray, you can send Diana through  
after me."

"Not Superman?"

"If nothing else, I've earned a quick death."

He approached the cage. She had to tip her head up just a bit to see his  
face. Different universes, but he and her John were as close as twins in  
their features and expressions. Closer. There was so much she wanted to  
say, but this wasn't the John she wanted to say it to.

"I could give you a quick death right now."

"If I screw up again, you have my permission."

His mouth quirked. "I wasn't asking."

"I mean it. If I do something — _anything_ — to betray the trust of  
my friends in my world, I won't fight Diana when she comes. Or you."  
_Of course if that ever happens, you'll have to stand in line._

"You didn't let your Shayera have a chance to make amends, and you can't  
undo what you did to her any more than I can undo my mistakes. All we  
can do, all anybody ever gets to do, is move on and try to do better next  
time."

He stared. "You sounded just like her, right then."

He bent down to brush the lightest kiss possible against her mouth. He  
wasn't her John but it was all right because she wasn't his Shayera, and  
she closed her eyes to pretend it was otherwise. Then he pulled back and  
threw his ring arm out. An emerald beam shot out the camera watching  
her cell.

"That got broken in your escape," he told her as he unlocked the cage.  
"The tape accidentally got deleted too."

"Whoops," she said.

"I'll be watching you." _I'll bet._ He touched her cheek. She  
thought maybe he was going to kiss her again, but instead he turned to the  
portal controls. So much pain in him, in his shoulders and his eyes.  
Maybe there were things she could still fix here.

"Um. In our universe, we've opened up membership to other  
superheroes."

"We've done the same thing. That's why we've had time to spend  
watching you."

"Is one of the new people named Vixen?" He nodded. "In our universe,  
she's ... You should talk to her."

"I'll think about it."

* * *

Shayera walked out of the portal into the snow. As her feet hit the  
sidewalk, she braced herself, but it looked as though she'd get through this  
particular return trip without a concussion.

Change had to start somewhere.

She touched her ear. "Hawkgirl to Watchtower. J'onn, are you there?"

"Watchtower here. Where are you?" Concern and relief flooded his  
voice.

"Back," she said. "I think. Where's Flash?"

"Right here," he piped up on the same channel. She grinned. "You got  
Lord troubles?"

"Not anymore. Send someone to pick me up and I'll tell you all about it."

"Done," said a third voice. It was John, _her_ John, and maybe all  
they'd have from now on were arguments, but maybe not. She was going  
to have to prove that she was herself when he arrived; she was pretty sure  
she knew enough embarrassing stories to bear witness to her identity.  
Armed with the proper stories, she might even convince him to take the  
long way back.

Snow began to fall again, but she wasn't cold anymore.

* * *

The End

* * *

Note: I didn't intend to write a sequel to "To Every Woman a Happy  
Ending." It just kind of happened. (I also noticed that there are certain  
thematic similarities to "Shadow Chaser." Um. Happens. Great stories  
plant a seed in your head, and all that.) 


End file.
